


Turtlenecking

by GravityPinefalls



Category: Original Work
Genre: Brother/Sister Incest, F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Princest Beck, Sibling Incest, Turtleneck Twins, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravityPinefalls/pseuds/GravityPinefalls
Summary: Rob and Sam, fraternal twins living together since college, find an unusual way to unwind after a stressful week.A collaboration with @BeckPrincest, based on her Turtleneck Twins artwork.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	Turtlenecking

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve wanted to do an art/writing collaboration with Princest Beck for a couple of years, and finally got my chance in January 2020. She had created a couple characters simply named “Turtleneck Twins” in December 2019, and she gave me her blessing to develop them into a full story. We workshopped the first 6500 words or so, and then I had to set the story aside for a little while for personal reasons.
> 
> Six months later, looking at the draft with fresh eyes, I finally got around to finishing it.
> 
> Original artwork (NSFW!) here: https://twitter.com/beckprincest/status/1202553497876488192

He’d given up flipping channels, and left on some sort of police procedural he didn’t recognize as the buzzing phone on the end table took his attention. He stretched over the living room couch, picked up the phone, and clicked on the blinking group text notification.

_ > cmon Rob everyones waiting. are u 2 comign or not? _

He couldn’t really blame them for being frustrated. This was, what, the third time he backed out of trivia night? How much longer would they keep getting invited?

_ > Sorry! Sam’s working pretty late. Looks like we’re gonna pass. _

_ > So just come on your own! It’s not like you two have to do EVERYTHING together _

A sudden anger flared up in him, which he knew well enough to quell before responding.

_ > Yeah, well, work was pretty rough on me too; I’m just about crashed out. Next week? _

The rely of “ _ sure thing! _ ” came by way too late to be sincere. 

His friends were right, of course. Sam wouldn’t mind at all if he left on his own. It made no sense to ruin his night just because hers was ruined too. Sitting in their apartment, alone, wouldn’t make Sam’s work any easier, or make her boss less of an asshole.

And yet, the gesture of solidary was worth it, because an hour later, he heard the lock turn, and enjoyed the singular pleasure of seeing his twin sister come home.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” she said, closing the door and kicking snow off her winter boots. “I told you not to wait up.”

“I was tired anyway,” he said. “Did you eat?”

She closed the door and began to deposit her belongings onto the kitchen table. Her swollen messenger bag and work flats. A wool hat, scarf, and overcoat. She peeled off her snow boots and, in stockinged feet, tiptoed around the puddle of melted snow at the entryway of their shared apartment to the living room.

“Yeah, I snagged some sandwiches from the conference room a couple hours in. I might or might not have salmonella. You?”

“I was feeling fancy, so I used  _ two _ flavor packets in the ramen today.”

“Look at you, Mister Moneybags,” she said.

He stood to greet her, feeling a bit awkward - they were more special-occasion huggers than everyday-huggers, but somehow it seemed like the right thing to do, and when he extended his arms he was relieved that she did the same, leaning forward and embracing him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muted as she pressed her forehead to his shoulder.

“Don’t apologize for stuff that’s not your fault,” he said. “I know you’re not working this late for fun.”

She released him, and sighed.

“Fucking Tony,” she said. “The proofs have been on his goddamn desk for a week and a half. Everyone had signed off except him. And first thing this morning, it’s like he’s never even  _ heard  _ of the project. Like it was some  _ other  _ guy reading and replying to all my progress reports, and nodding his empty fucking head at every bullet point of the presentation I gave last Wednesday.”

Of course, that was only part of it. The part she felt okay telling Rob about. Because she knew Tony wasn’t  _ really _ as dumb as he seemed. Real fucking near, but there was a method to his shitty behavior. There were two other project leads besides her, both men, and neither of them ever got this shit. And neither did she, for the first few weeks. But then the comments came. Always subtle, always so careful she thought even if she recorded it she’d never be able to prove anything. Comments about her professionalism. About how she portrays herself. About her appearance. She tried to press him on this, only to be told her clothes were “sloppy,” and when pressed on that, “ill-fitting.” Through process of elimination, she found that things that Tony considered sloppy included her skirts (too long), her blouses (not sheer enough), her sweaters (not tight enough), and her footwear (not high heels).

He was smart enough to not say it outright, but the implication was there: Give him a little eye candy or he will use the full extent of his piddly middle-management powers to grind her down.

Rob, of course, would be  _ ripshit  _ if he knew any of that, and even more so if she explained to him that Tony was  _ still _ one of the easier managers she’d dealt with in her field. He was  _ ridiculously _ shitty at his job, and that let her distinguish herself as a shining star in an otherwise underperforming firm. Another year of this and she’d pack up her portfolio, tap her rapidly-developing client network, and run her own team at a competing firm. But until then, she was laying low, and faced the same choice every morning before work: dress up for a night at the club, or risk the possibility of a Tony-made fake-emergency that would keep her in the office all night. She always chose the second option, because  _ fuck  _ Tony. 

“Fuck Tony,” said Rob. She heard a clink and hisses from the tiny galley kitchen behind the living room, and he returned with two beers.

“Wait,” she said. “We can still go out. It’s … just about ten. I’ve got at least a couple hours in me.”

“You’ve been running around since six in the morning,” he said. “Come on, we’ll just drink some beers and watch a movie.”

She took the beer, oddly pleased by the weight of the bottle, the cool condensation on the glass, and Rob’s fingers brushing her own as he passed it to her.

“Oh, hey,” he said. “Twins.”

“Huh?”

She was tired enough to wonder, for a second anyway, if Rob had just suffered some sort of head injury, and had somehow forgotten the previous 23 years of their lives.

“Your outfit,” he clarified, and pointed to her chest, and back to his.

“Oh,” she said. She’d worn a maroon turtleneck sweater today (she wore  _ a lot _ of turtlenecks at work, because again, fuck Tony), and realized Rob was wearing a blue-gray one. 

She smiled. “You know, they’re comfy, but really rude to vampires. Nobody likes biting wool.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? Sometimes I like the sensation of being strangled all day long by a weak, furry ... snake.”

She could tell from his expression - the slight curl of the corner of his mouth and a glance off to the side - that he was halfway through this not-even-a-joke before he realized it wasn’t really working, but plowed ahead anyway, and that made her laugh a lot harder than the joke itself.

“All right, snake charmer,” she said, plopping herself on the living room couch. “I’m gonna be zonked out in like an hour, so pick something good to snore to.”

They flipped channels for a while before settling on The Princess Bride. It was already 30 minutes in, but they knew the movie by heart so it didn’t really matter. Any regret that Rob had for skipping trivia night with their friends had washed away completely. Movies with Sam was a hell of a lot more fun. Two beers in, and they were damn near acting out every scene alongside the screen - Sam nailing every one of Buttercup’s lines, and Rob doing his very best Cary Elwes, while alternating the others. Of course,  _ both  _ of them did Inigo Montoya, because his lines were by far the best.

Rob was fairly certain you really can’t really do this thing with someone you haven’t grown up with.

“Geez, I just realized, I never asked you about  _ your _ week,” she said.

“Nothing much to say,” he demurred.

“Come on,” she said, picking his empty beer off the end table and replacing it with a fresh one. 

“Sam, I’m not going to complain about my job after the shitty day you just had.”

“It’s not a contest,” she said. “I don’t want you to think you have to keep everything to yourself just to keep me happy.”

He sighed.

“It’s not bad. But not good either. The project I’m on … it’s never going to work. But it’s the manager’s baby, so everyone’s playing tricks with the data. Nothing dirty, nothing illegal, just … pointless. Imagine six people spending 50 hours a week doing nothing but avoiding the question, ‘Can we sell this for more than it costs to make?’ Because everyone knows the answer is no. It’s just a matter of time before someone at Corporate sees our labor costs alone are twice the market value, and launches an almighty shitstorm.”

“That’s not … that’s not your fault, though? Nobody is going to blame you for that.”

“I’m the lowest in the totem pole. They’ll find a way.”

She was about to sit back down on the couch, but stopped, and instead slid down to the floor and leaned her back against it. He smiled, and joined her, and they leaned against each other, shoulder to shoulder.

“Is everyone in their 20s dealing with this stuff?” she asked.

“Probably. And probably getting tons of advice from their parents, too.”

“ ‘You gotta get a real job. Just go straight to the factory and demand to speak to the boss. Don’t even ask for a job. Just ask him when you start. He’ll admire your gumption’ ” she said, her low voice a not-remotely-convicning impression of their Dad.

“ ‘That’s how I got my first job,’ ” Rob continued, getting their Dad’s voice close enough it was actually kind of unsettling. “ ‘Work the line for a couple years and you’ll have your own factory, just like me.’ ”

She shook her head. “How many people did Dad’s company lay off last year?”

“Ten thousand, I think.”

“That’s a lot of gumption.”

“Mmm.”

He swigged his beer.

“At least that mellowed him out a little,” she said. “No more passive-aggressive comments about us ‘playing computer games’ while submitting job applications.”

“I’m still glad we moved out,” he said.

“Yeah, it was time. It’s easier to like family when they’re not constantly around you.”

“Present company excluded, I hope,” he said.

“Naturally.”

She caught the slightest tick in his expression.

“Rob, seriously? Come on, you know you’re the best roommate I’ve ever had!”

“I know, I just … you always talked about going abroad in high school, and college, and now you never mention it anymore. Like we threw in for this place and now you’re chained to it.”

“I’m not,” she said. “If I really wanted to, I’d find a way. I know it’d suck for you to find another roomate, or move, or whatever, so I wouldn’t do it lightly. But I’d still do it.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“I … I don’t know. I mean, as crappy as my job is, at least it’s leading somewhere. I mean, it’s all well and good to want to tour the South American rainforest, or backpack Europe, but to just put my life on hold for months? This crappy job, this tiny apartment - it’s not much of a life, not yet, but it’s something I’ve built all on my own. I don’t want to give that up so easily.”

He sighed.

“I just … I feel like I’m holding you back somehow. Like it’d be way easier for you to get away from it all if we didn’t live together.”

“Rob, I’m getting away from it all right now.”

He turned to her, and she widened her arms.

“Look a this fancy resort we’re at! Cold beers, carpets clean enough to sit on.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Seriously,” she said, jabbing him on the shoulder. “I don’t think I could do this on my own. Living with Mom and Dad is too much, but living on my own is too much too. I need a roommate with 30 years experience in making me laugh and putting up with my crap.”

“You’re 23,” he said.

“That’s why you’re at the bottom of the salary band,” she said.

“Eugh, god, enough with job talk,” he said.

“Agreed. What else is on?”

“I thought you’d be zonked out by now.”

“I’m getting a second wind,” she said. “Come on, one more movie before bed.”

He glanced up at the muted TV, only now noticing the credits had transitioned to what must have been ten minutes of commercials. He turned on the sound and worked through the movie channels again.

“Hey, that one!” she said.

He stopped at what looked to be a period piece. An ornate 18th century dining room with a man and woman - husband and wife? - sharing a meal and apparently making fun of how much everyone they know weighs - so-and-so having a thousand pounds, so-and-so having five thousand pounds. 

“How the hell can someone weigh five thousand pounds and still be alive?” he asked.

“It’s his income, dummy! They’re saying he makes that much money a year. It’s Regency England stuff. Jane Austin maybe.”

“Oooooh,” he said. And then, unconvincingly, “I knew that, I was just joking.”

He set the remote down, and turned his attention to Sam, who had scooted her knees up to her chin and wrapped her hands around her legs, staring attentively.

“You know this movie?” he asked.

“No, I just know the vibe. You can tell by the way they talk, and what they’re wearing. He’s rich but not like super-rich, and she’s high-status, or higher than him at least, but also kind of poor. And they’re not supposed to be dining alone like this; it’s super inappropriate. And they are way in love.”

“You got all that from -”

There was a clatter as the man on TV stood and approached the lady, taking her by the hand and bidding her to stand. The soft instrumental music began to build, and they looked longingly into each others’ eyes.

“This isn’t one of those kissing stories, is it?” he said.

“Shush.”

This was a little harsh, but he did in fact quiet down. She was, to be honest, kind of annoyed with him. Something about this movie seemed really familiar. Had she seen it before? Or maybe it reminded her of a dream she once had? The guy was certainly her type - dark, mussy hair, expressive eyes, an easy smile. The girl looked familiar too, dark curls down to her neck, sharp nose, full lips.

She actually gasped at the kiss, so forceful, so unexpected. His hands gripped her upper arms so tightly. Her eyes, widened in surprise, closed slowly, as she melted into him.

_ God, I need someone to kiss me like that _ , she thought. 

The kiss lingered, and after a few seconds she began to experience two very conflicting emotions. Horny, first off, if in fact “horny” was an emotion, and she believed it was. And embarrassed, because this was getting a little too hot and heavy to be watching with her brother.

Rob found himself squirming, and glanced at the remote control sitting between him and Sam. He felt he’d probably change the channel if he had it in his hand, but something about picking the remote up made him freeze. Like putting it down had absolved him of any responsibility, and picking it up would indict him. And also, he couldn’t get over the fact that the actress looked  _ so much _ like Sam. Like, same hair (if done up a bit more), and similar face. It made it hard to look away, and (he convinced himself) this was more in a “car crash” sort of way. Had he ever actually  _ seen _ Sam kiss someone before? If he had, certainly not like this actress was kissing. He’d remember something like that, for sure.

Sam exhaled softly as the kiss finally broke. She was a little concerned how far the movie would go, but also, glad it went as far as it did. She had a plan to soothe herself after this frustrating week and particularly infuriating day, but felt certain she’d be too tired, or too uninspired, to get anywhere tonight. But that kiss would be plenty. 

The camera drew back, their hands clasped together, chins bowed. He would promise to love her always, Sam knew. He would say things that would make her squishy.

“Enough of this,” said the man. “I must tour the gardens.”

_ What _ , thought Rob.

“Dear Sir!” said the woman. “They are  _ unkempt _ !”

_ The _ , thought Sam.

“Then I shall _ keep them _ !”

“Fuck!” said Rob and Sam.

Regency-era dresses, turns out, tear rather easily, or at least this one did, for in the space of two or three seconds, the man had damn near ripped the thing in half, picked the woman up by her thighs, and dropped her on the still-ornate dining table. And then. Proceeded to dine.

“Rob, what the  _ hell  _ are you watching!”

“W-what?  _ Me!? _ Are you fucking  _ serious _ ? You  _ told _ me to stop here!”

“You  _ knew _ this was a porno!” she hissed.

“I swear to god I didn’t! Why did you want to watch this?”

“I didn’t! I didn’t know!”

“So change the channel!”

“ _ You _ change the channel!” she barked.

This was, both had to admit, the weirdest of impasses. They’d somehow come across the idea, simultaneously, that the person responsible for watching a scene of graphic (yet somehow respectful) cunnlingus, with their sibling, was fully responsible for picking up the remote and changing the channel to something with a bit less eating of pussy. Which of course meant that neither would pick up the remote. Which of course meant the scene continued unabated.

This gave them a few precious seconds to calm down from the knee-jerk “watching porn with my brother/sister” reaction and come to an understanding.

“If you really hated this,” Rob ventured, “you wouldn’t tell me to change the channel. You’d just do it.”

“You too,” said Sam.

They let this ruminate for a bit. They weren’t sure how long they argued but it was probably about a minute. So, two minutes into the oral sex scene, they began to actually watch, though with guarded criticism.

Rob had never, in fact, been that far with a girl. A couple make-out sessions in high school, and more serious stuff with a girl in college, and that’s about it. Three years since he’d seen his last real-life tit. And not a single vulva, not even one. Hand-over-panties was the highest privilege he was ever afforded. And sure, that was very nice, lots of soft squishiness, but god he really wanted to see what that looked like in real life.

“She’s pretty,” said Rob, and instantly regretted it. For minutes now there was nothing on screen but vagina and a very enthusiastic eater of same. He was just drunk enough that he’d notice this actress (porn or otherwise) had some particularly enticing lady bits. A nice thatch of pubic hair, flushed vulva, and large, protruding inner labia. He surprised himself in that he found these things arousing, and also, that he’d once spent enough time Wikipedia’ing “vagina,” and masturbating to the results, that he learned all these words.

“She’s hairy,” said Sam. “And her lips are all weird.” And instantly regretted it. Because of course she was focusing on the features she was sensitive about. She trimmed enough for bathing suits but no more, and her inner bits tended to poke out of her outer bits. Which is of course, totally normal, but still. Also, she was talking to her brother about a vagina, and she should probably not do that.

He scoffed.

“You have no taste,” he said, and also regretted it, but honestly, what the hell would Sam know about what makes a vagina pretty or not?

“So what,” she said. “You’re gonna jerk off to this?”

“So what if I am?”

Something twinged deep inside her.  _ Fuck. _ I mean, it wasn’t like she knew  _ exactly _ what she looked like down there, but she was pretty sure she shared a hell of a lot of common ground with this actress, ignoring of course the ease with which she displayed it. Is Rob saying he’s going to jerk off to … well, not  _ her _ vagina, but a  _ striking facsimile _ ?

Also,  _ fuck _ , this was some high-production stuff. Great lighting, good music, interesting cinematography. And this landed gentry fellow was not just going through the motions. Tongue and lips were all over, working clit and labia and back again.  _ God, I need someone to eat me out like that, holy fuck.  _ Also, who was this character? She probably read a lot of books. Well spoken for sure. No, more than that. She was a writer. For the local gazette. She had a voice. She spoke out.  _ She mattered _ .

Oh, fuck, he’s fingering her too now, Jesus.

Only now did she realize she was rubbing her thighs together. She hadn’t changed after work, and her black dress slacks were beginning to chafe. She kinda sorta really needed to take care of that business.

“She looks like you,” said Rob.

She felt the blood drain from her face.

“W-what?” she said, failing to appropriate the icy tone this comment deserved.

“Her hair looks like yours.”

_ The. Fuck. _

“I mean, she’s pulled it back, but it’s pretty similar,” he added.

The camera had zoomed out a bit, showing not only the copious pussy-eating, but the sheer ecstacy on the lady’s face, and yes, her hair was in tight braids, and yes, it had a similar color and curl to her own.

She breathed out. Her brother was not, in fact, commenting on the similarity of her pubic hair to this woman on the screen. So … that’s a fucking relief. Not that he would have any idea what she looked like down there. Not like he would have any idea what  _ any  _ woman looked like down there, at least in real life. 

She shifted her hips, rubbed her thighs together a bit more. This was starting to become a problem.

_ This is a serious problem _ , he thought.

First off, telling Sam she looked like this porn actress was dumb as shit.

Plus, subtle movements of his hips weren’t quite working, and after one or two adjustments of his package it was inadvisable to adjust any further. Also, he found himself swallowing saliva at an alarming rate, because he was literally drooling at what he was watching. What an absolutely exquisite pussy, holy god. He could only imagine what it tasted like. God, he wanted to go down on this woman. But he’d have to make do with jacking off to it. And, while watching, study the technique. I mean, of course, it’s porn, so take it with a grain of salt. But working the clit, the labia, and back, incorporating some fingering? It made sense. And it wouldn’t do any harm to try it out, if and when he was in a situation to do so. What grander purpose can there be but to strive to be better than your yesterday?

Fuck, he was hard. He risked another adjustment, and one more. The jeans were helping conceal his erection, but their constraint was increasingly uncomfortable. He should probably leave for the bathroom, or his bedroom. But this movie was -  _ god  _ it was enticing. This was what, five minutes of oral sex, with no signs of stopping? He needed to see this woman cum. God, he hoped it was loud, and wet. 

Shit. What if Sam stuck around until then? That would make it too weird. If she left, he could just whip it out, finish nice and quick, and clean up. She wouldn’t suspect anything.

His movements kept catching her eye, and without intending, she glanced over as Rob began to grope himself.  _ Gross _ . His jeans didn’t do a thing to conceal his boner, and his incredibly obvious grab-and-pump-and-let-go movements put a goddamn neon sign on the whole business. It was obvious now he was looking for a chance to masturbate.

This whole situation … it was just so  _ unfair _ . This movie - this  _ cinema de arte _ or whatever they call it - it  _ spoke  _ to her somehow. Because yes, this actress actually looked like her a fair but. And yes, she sometimes fantasized about being spread out on a table and eaten like she felt sure she deserved. And Rob - god, she loved him, but he could not possibly appreciate this movie at anywhere near the same level as her. So, all right, he’s going to whack it pretty soon, but god damn it, let her have this one. 

“You should go,” she said.

“What?”

“Take care of. That.” she said.

“Sam?”

“I don’t want you to do it in front of me.”

She wasn’t looking at him, and he didn’t make a sound, but she could somehow feel the hurt in him. Because of course he wouldn’t do that to her. Of course it would pain him for her to suggest he might.

“Sorry,” she said. “That was … that was mean. I know you wouldn’t do that.”

He breathed out heavily.

“Rob?”

“Honestly, I’m jealous,” he said.

“Of what?

“Never having to do that.”

“What?”

“You’re a girl. You don’t have to do that.”

A slow realization came to her.  _ He cannot possibly be that dumb. _

“You think … holy crap, I can barely get my head around it … you seriously think girls don’t masturbate?”

He turned to her, eyebrows cocked in suspicion.

“Yeah? I mean,  _ you’ve _ never done it,” he said.

She snorted. This was too ridiculous.

“We have literally shared the same bedroom wall for 19 of the 23 years we’ve been alive,” she said. And after saying it, the significance struck her. Other than four years of college, they’d nearly always slept within a few feet of each other.

They were facing each other now. The slurping and moaning on the TV was a strange yet appropriate backdrop.

“No way,” he insisted.

“Way, Garth,” she insisted. “Does sound only go one way everywhere we live? I hear every damn name you call out, every little sound. Put on some frigging music for once, won’t you?”

It was like something stabbed her in the gut. The way his expression broke. The look of betrayal. It  _ was _ betrayal, wasn’t it? That was the sibling code - the  _ twin _ code - that you don’t take advantage of the fact you know everything about your sibling and more. You keep secrets your twin never know you had. You hear stuff and you ignore it.

God, he was - was he crying? Did she actually make him cry? Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with her?

_ Fuck, what a piece of shit I am _ , he thought. How many years has Sam put up with his inherent grossness? He felt the flush of heat on his face, the onset of tears. 

“I - I will,” he sputtered. That’s all he had. The offer to play music to conceal the sound of his self-abuse. What a goddamn mess. What a nightmare of an evening.

She sucked in a breath. This was her  _ brother _ . This was the person she loved more than anyone in the entire world. And she just threw this at him! Shamed him for something she does just as much (well, half as much, but still!), just because she’s … you know … good at hiding it.

“I finger!” she spouted.

Rob was just raising himself off the floor as she spoke, and then lowered himself down.

“What?” he said.

“Myself!” she added. 

“Sam?”

“A lot!” she said. “Not as much as you, but a lot!”

A blush burned her cheeks; it helped that Rob appeared completely lost, and probably didn’t understand the full scope of what she was saying.

Beside them, the TV continued to porn.

He blinked.

“So you’re not … you don’t judge me if I..” he said.

“Not at all! Go to town! Just as long as you’re cool with it for me.”

“Y-yeah,” he said. “Yeah, for sure.”

He licked his lips.

“All right, so … since we’re both in agreement that this sort of thing is done … you think you can give me a couple minutes?”

“ _ Hell _ no,” she said. “ _ I’m _ the one who found this.  _ You _ go.”

This seemed to confuse him further.

_ I am very confused _ , thought Rob. Sam’s cheerful admission that he was not the only person in their apartment who masturbated was … well, enlightening for sure. So clearly she ought to understand the …  _ urgency  _ of his need. He needed to jerk off, to this  _ specific  _ oral sex scene - which, by the goddamn way, is what, 15 minutes long now? Jesus! - and it made no sense for Sam to not give him this one little favor.

It made no sense for him to refuse her this little favor. Just give her the living room for ten, twenty minutes. She rarely watches porn, and almost never masturbates while watching it. And, damn it, she’s earned this. So if he won’t leave … she’ll just have to scare him off.

He was desperate. His cock ached, straining against his clothes. And, damn it, this was  _ his _ living room as much as hers! So he’d just have to scare her off. Yeah, she’d be grossed out and stuff, but fuck, he needed to touch himself.

“This is your own fault for not leaving,” he said.

He let the words hang in the air, thinking she’d say something like “ew barf” and leave the room, but she didn’t, and, committed now, he unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped, and began to cup himself over his underwear.

She felt the heat of her face flushing red as she realized he wasn’t kidding.  _ He’s really doing it, holy crap _ . But the shock was quickly followed by indignation. He didn’t understand. He could jerk of to  _ anything _ , why did it have to be  _ this? _ And, damn it, what if she  _ needed  _ to actually be watching this thing to finish?

“That … that won’t work,” she said.

She undid her own pants, slipping her hand down, over her panties, fingers curling over the warm cotton.

“You’re bluffing,” he said.

“Try me.”

“You aren’t even doing anything.”

“Neither are you.”

So, yeah,  _ neither _ of them were moving their hands at this point, but for her part, that’s just because she never got a chance to get out of these damn work slacks, and just unbuttoning them and putting her hand on her itchy waist was such a relief she just had to savor the moment.

She was really regretting not changing earlier. She bought this bra only a few months ago and already the underwire was coming loose. Running to her bedroom for sleepwear was no longer an option; leaving the living room would mean admitting defeat.

She felt her lips curl in a sly smile. Even though she knew he tried to hide it, Rob  _ still _ freaked out, just a little, every time he saw one of her bras. He kept asking her to stop hanging them in the shower on laundry day, and she kept telling him to just pick them up and throw them on her bed if they’re in the way. He accused her of doing it on purpose once. And, by that point, she absolutely was. She knew it pissed him off, but she loved watching the weekly ritual of him picking up each bra, carrying it by the tag only, arm extended to keep the thing as far from his body as possible, and depositing it at the foot of her bed.

So. Continue this staredown contest? Or get comfy  _ and _ freak Rob out? Maybe enough to send him packing and gain back the living room? Easy choice.

Rob noticed the smirk appear on Sam’s face and knew nothing good would come of it.

“What’s with that look?” he challenged.

“Nothing. Just thinking about getting a little more comfortable.”

She reached behind her to scratch her back, and then began to shimmy her shoulders back and forth and  _ what what the fuck is she really-? _

When she pulled one arm into her sweater and back out, he was pretty sure she was, in fact, taking off her bra, with him right there. He felt his cheeks burn. Which was weird, because it wasn’t like she’d never done that before. They’d shared an apartment for two years now, and though he never meant to notice, Sam rarely wore a bra first thing in the morning or late at night. And he … kinda appreciated that? Not in a perverted way - well, slightly perverted; boobs were boobs, after all. But … Sam was really comfortable around him. And there was something really special about that. He just wished she was a little  _ less _ comfortable, and wouldn’t leave her bras all over the bathroom right before he was going to take a shower.

Sam worked the bra strap off her other shoulder, and Rob confirmed that, yes, this situation was very different. Nothing surreptitious about this. In fact, she was calling his attention to it. And when she got her arms back into her sleeves and extracted her bra from the front of her sweater, she did so with unnecessary flourish.

No, more than a flourish. A toss. Right into his lap.

“S-shit, be - be careful!” he said.

“Don’t be a wuss,” she said. “Just put it on my bed if it’s in the way.”

She stuck her tongue out at him for good measure.

“Stop throwing these things all over the place, Jesus,” he sighed. He picked it up, and  _ god, it was so warm, fuck _ , and placed it on the floor beside him.

“Give up yet?” she asked.

“Just - just getting started,” he said.

“Starting to  _ lose _ ?” she countered. “Oh, wait - you’ve been doing that  _ the whole time _ .”

“Shaddup,” he said. “I’m gonna … just you wait.”

“I’m waiiiting,” she sing-songed.

“I’m serious!” he protested. “I’m really gonna…”

Dammit, why was she  _ still  _ here?

“What are you gonna?” she countered. God, that look on her face, like she knew everything about him.

“I’m … I’m gonna whip it out,” he said.

This seemed to get a reaction. Her eyes widened, but only for a moment.

“You wouldn’t,” she said.

_ God damn it, look away! _

“Here it comes,” he said, and still, Sam eyed him suspiciously.

_ Fuck it, whatever. _

A quick shimmy of his hips, getting his underwear and jeans around the curve of his ass, and hooking his thumb into his boxers, he finally released himself. God, what a relief. Arguing with Sam had taken down his erection a few ticks, but it was still pretty serious.

Sam turned away, huffing in indignation, but it took a few seconds, like she was scoping him out or something. Was she seriously perving on him? What the fuck?

The shock of Rob exposing himself quickly abated, and she turned away toward the TV. It’s like he  _ wanted  _ her to see his dick. Was he seriously perving on her? What the fuck?

Her annoyance sharpened even further when she realized how badly distracted she’d been from the movie. The couple had already moved on from oral sex, much to Sam’s disappointment, but only a moment ago, as the man was just in the process of dropping the last of his clothes and leaning close. The woman was splayed out on the table now, the camera alternating between the ecstacy on her face and the thick cock teasingly brushing along her inner thigh.

God, she must seriously be starved for this, because her hand seemed to move on its own now, mimicking what she saw on screen, or as best she could with her slacks unzipped but otherwise still in place. She traced two fingers against her inner thigh, rubbing small circles and moving closer to her center, fingernails briefly catching the hem of her panties as she moved over them. She wasn’t  _ completely _ crazy; under no circumstances was she going to go under her panties until she’d somehow gotten Rob to leave. The cock on screen made its way to the woman’s vulva, the head becoming slick as it briefly dipped into her lips, and frustration began to well in her. She could feel herself becoming wet, but the barrier of her cotton underwear denied her any pleasure of dipping into herself. Fingers moved upward now, and with a firm, quick, flicking motion, she foolishly teased her clit.

The porn was better than most, Rob had to admit - the sex scene moved slowly, lots of teasing, lots of focusing on the faces of the participants, which he liked. And apparently there was a story behind it, which was a nice bonus, even if he tended to skip through them. He was amused and sort of impressed that Sam managed to figure out the entire backstory of these two from pretty much nothing, although he could take points off for the fact she didn’t catch the porn aspect.

Still, there was an issue of … timing? Because under no circumstances was he going to cum with Sam in the room. So of course he wasn’t actually jerking off with purpose; more of a noncommittal stroking. Trying to maintain his erection (not an easy task with Sam right there) without making any progress toward ejaculation. 

This plan quickly derailed as he heard something altogether new to him - a low, loud, lengthy moan off to his left, followed immediately by Sam clapping her hand to her mouth. 

He froze in panic. His cock throbbed beneath his fingers, and he sucked in a breath as he felt himself edge toward ejaculation and then roll back down. Close. Way, way too close. Fuck, that snuck up on him

She clapped her hand to her face, but it was too late to muffle the sudden moan - loud, guttural, and unfamiliar to her. She  _ never _ made noises like that - did she? No, she was quiet when she did it, for sure, otherwise Rob would have heard her many times over. She could feel the heat of her cheeks against her fingers, and braced herself for Rob’s response.

She knew of course Rob wouldn’t say anything cruel to her, not intentionally, but she felt this is one of those situations where he might tease her without realizing she was so emotionally bare that even the slightest barb would rip deep onto her. She was prepared for a tactically applied smirk and roll of her eyes, or even an “ew, gross,” thrown over his shoulder. She felt certain that she’d be able to laugh it off and get to her bedroom before she started crying in earnest.

But he said none of these things. For a few moments, there was no sound but the TV.

“Sorry,” she said. “That … that was loud. I didn’t mean to…”

“I didn’t hear anything,” said Rob.

She risked a look, glancing quickly before looking away. His pants and boxers were down to his knees now, his legs spread as much as that restriction allowed. She could feel heat swelling in her. He was just so exposed. Vulnerable. Just laying it all out. Not  _ for  _ her - not to freak her out, or entice her. Not that she found penises particularly fascinating to look at anyway. 

“Oh,” she said softly. 

_ Are we really that close? _ she wondered. Was he really okay with her seeing him like this? Was she actually interested in knowing something so incredibly private about him? She wasn’t lying earlier, about how much noise he made when he did it. But maybe she exaggerated? Maybe, once in a while, instead of putting on some music, or just ignoring the sounds, she just sort of … listened? It’s not like it turned her on or anything, obviously, but at the same time, it didn’t gross her out nearly as much as it should have.

The embarrassment of almost ejaculating right in front of his goddamn sister was beginning to subside, as he realized she wasn’t going to make fun of him after all. Also, he was surprised that she would go so far as to look at him, knowing full well what she might see. It was only for an instant, of course, and probably done without even thinking - just turning to the sound of him speaking - but it surprised him still. Are they really that close? Was she really okay with seeing him like this?

God, that sound though. He’d never heard anything like that before. Not a porn-moan. Not acting. Not like the sounds coming from the woman on TV. Something unintentional. Something she couldn’t hold back. What made her make that sound? Something she saw, or heard? On the TV? Or something else? Was the TV even on, still? He’d somehow managed to tune it out completely.

A strange, peaceful feeling came over him. He was sure that the anxiety, the fear of being caught and judged and ridiculed, was part and parcel with the act of masturbation, and he’d feel that way even if he was a thousand miles away from another living soul. But Sam was right there, so in a sense, he was already caught. And it wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected. The fear, the worry, slipped away. His breathing slowed, his eyelids heavy. He was vaguely aware of the sensation of his own hand cupping the head of his cock again. But rather than stroke himself, he found his fingers lazily tracing the contours of his own anatomy. 

She could hear Rob’s breathing slow, and the ridiculous sound of fleshy slapping had stopped, convincing her he had given up on this little game. However, when she glanced over with a smirk, ready to accept Rob’s concession, she saw this wasn’t the case. She quickly turned away again, and belatedly realized Rob’s eyes were closed, and he hadn’t seen her looking. She glanced once more, out of pure curiosity this time.

It goes without saying that Sam had no interest whatsoever in seeing Rob go to town on himself. Even if she could somehow convince herself to imagine it was some other guy, which she absolutely couldn’t, the sight of a guy jacking off was off-putting at best.

But there was something strangely fascinating about seeing a guy touch himself so gently. Every experience she’d had with a guy in such a state so far - not a lot, for sure, but enough that she understood the gist - was always so hurried, so aggressive. Like guys just didn’t enjoy being aroused, and just wanted to strangle their dicks into submission.

So yes, she was looking, but her interests were entirely anthropological. Rob’s fingers tented over the swollen head of his penis now, stroking up and down slowly. Between the gap of his thumb and little finger she could see a bead of clear fluid form at the tip, which disappeared as he began to rub the tip in widening circles with his middle finger. The dull red flesh began to take on a glistening sheen, and Rob’s fingers began to glide smoothly over the lubricated skin.

She turned away again - Rob hadn’t caught her looking yet, but she knew is was bound to happen, and there was no way she could explain herself if she did.

_ He’s wet. He’s wet like I’m wet _ , she thought.

As she slipped her hand back into her pants again, she realized that wasn’t true at all - Rob wasn’t in the same  _ league _ of how wet she was. Her panties had wicked up a great deal of moisture, and the wet cotton was beginning to feel sticky and uncomfortable against her flesh. Even worse, she felt dampness at the back of her hands and realized she was not far from staining her work slacks.

Rob opened his eyes at the sound of shuffling beside him. Sam had kept herself covered up to this moment, but now she was lifting her hips and hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her pants, quickly sliding them down and kicking them off her feet.

In another context, that wouldn’t have registered as all that important - after a particularly hard workday, it wasn’t unusual for either or both of them to shuck off their pants and collapse on the couch for a while. But seeing Sam dip her hand into her powder blue panties made his breath catch.

_ Holy shit holy shit _ .

It’s not like he could see anything, but even so, he couldn’t look away, his eyes locked to the cotton fabric that stretched across the knuckles of Sam’s right hand. So captivating was the sight that he didn’t even notice Sam looking over her shoulder at him.

“Rob!” she hissed, “What the hell?”

_ Shit shit shit. Say something - say  _ anything _! _

“What?” he said. “What, like  _ you _ weren’t looking too?”

Her face turned crimson. He felt a sudden relief - he didn’t think that would work!

“So what if I was?” she said. “I wanted to make sure … I wanted to make sure you weren’t cheating.”

“Cheating?”

“Yeah, like … just  _ pretending  _ to do it, just to trick  _ me _ into doing it,” she said. “Cheating.”

“I wouldn’t … I wouldn’t do that! Hell, if anything,  _ you’re _ the one who’s cheating!”

“Seriously?”

“I’m not hiding anything, am I?  _ You’re _ the one still covered up. How am I supposed to know  _ you’re _ really doing it?”

She silently cursed herself. Accusing him of cheating was a stupid move. Obviously  _ he _ was really doing it. His penis was on full display, fully erect so far as she could tell, and he was clearly stroking its length, even  _ now _ , as they argued with each other. Up to this point, she’d managed some degree of modesty - yes, her hand was in her underwear, but that was a sight better than not wearing underwear at all.

“Rob,” she said. “I’m not … I’m not cheating. I’m really masturbating, just like you. Fingering myself and everything.”

“Then why don’t you prove it?”

“Rob. You’re talking … you’re talking like you  _ want _ to see my vagina.”

“Hey,  _ you’re _ the one calling me out. If  _ I _ gotta prove to you I’m jerking off, then  _ you _ gotta prove to me you’re fingering yourself. Unless, of course, you  _ give up _ .”

She scowled, lifting her hips and pulling her underwear down to her ankles. Pivoting on her right buttock, she rotated her hip toward Rob, laying her right leg flat on the ground, pulling her left foot upward, and raising her knee. 

She could see a rising panic in his eyes, perhaps wondering if he’d gone too far, if she’d take his teasing too seriously. But she dare not risk breaking her mask of annoyance. For reasons she could not discern, she did not mind, and perhaps slightly enjoyed, this sort of attention from her twin. And there was no way in  _ hell  _ she’d give Rob the satisfaction of knowing that.

Rob gulped. Teasing Sam was one of his favorite hobbies, but sometimes he went to far. Sometimes he was just a bit too cruel, poked her a bit too hard. And he was fairly sure that sort of teasing had no place in this sort of situation.  _ Neither  _ of them had a place in this sort of situation, really. God, what had he done? Demanding Sam take off her panties? Demanding she expose her  _ vagina _ to him? 

But god, what a sight. He’d never seen her naked before. I mean, technically he still hasn’t; she was still wearing the sweater. But god. Vagina. Sam’s exquisite vagina. The triangle of dark hair. Her vulva pink and swollen, glistening wet inner labia peeking out from the slit. His mouth watered. It was all he could do to stifle a moan as Sam’s hand moved away from her knee, along her inner thigh, reaching the apex of her vulva and extending index and middle finger, and rubbing slow, firm circles. He couldn’t see Sam’s clitoris, but he knew that it was beneath that delicate flesh, and knowing that she was playing with it, right in front of him, was already more than he could handle. But Sam didn’t relent, and began to down the slit and back again, fingers slipping into the gap of her puffy lips, fingertips disappearing into that heavenly flesh. 

Rob could feel sweat running down his back now, the room now impossibly hot, his breathing rapid, his hips twitching. He loosened his grip on his cock, desperately staving off ejaculation. A soft whimper escaped his lips as Sam brought her fingers to the lowest part of her vulva, curled up her index finger, and extended her ring finger. He watched Sam’s middle and ring finger disappear into her body, and stay there a moment, only to withdraw almost entirely. He could only imagine the heat, the tightness, of Sam’s vaginal walls, but he needn’t imagine how wet she was, and he admired the way the slick sheen of clear liquid coated her fingers. 

Rob swallowed saliva. As horny as he was, Sam was still his sister, and the urge to touch her, to kiss her, to penetrate her, took no purchase in his mind. But those fingers. If Sam would only extend that hand toward him, he would lick those fingers clean without a second thought. 

Sam somehow held back a moan; seeing Rob so off-kilter somehow heightened her arousal. She had been touching herself slowly, just to see if she could get a reaction, and she considered herself quite successful.

“ ‘s’ hot in here,” Rob muttered, and she watched him pull off his sweater and undershirt in one movement, tossing them onto the couch. While it was silly for her to react to Rob’s naked chest while his dick had been out all this time, Rob was kind of shy about taking his shirt off, and she found it a welcome surprise. A thin sheen of sweat glazed his chest, and she found herself wondering if he would touch himself there as he masturbated, as she sometimes did. Were his nipples as sensitive as hers? Would he rub and pinch them right before he cums?

A strange slurping sound came to her attention - she hadn’t realized she was fingering herself faster and more aggressively now. It was mortifying that it was so  _ loud _ , but she couldn’t stop herself. She began to rub her clit with her free hand, but stopped after a moment, instead reaching under her sweater.

It seems both of them had given up on being quiet, so she let herself moan softly as she cupped a breast, flicking fingers over the sensitive nipple before rolling the stiff nub between thumb and forefinger. She felt herself quickly advance toward a precipice, and reduced the stimulation a bit, trying to hold off her orgasm at least another few minutes.

“You better … hurry up,” she said. 

“You’re … close?” he asked.

“Y-yeah, she said. “You?”

“Al-almost,” he said. “I just - I need to …”

“Rob?”

“Your - your sweater,” he said.

“What about my sweater?”

“Please. Just for a minute. Pull it up a bit. I … I want to see your breasts.”

She flushed red. Rob had never, ever asked anything like that before. Openly masturbating in front of each other or not, there was at least a thin veneer of plausible deniability. They were only watching each other to keep each other honest, and she would hang onto that tenuous thread as long as she could. But asking her to expose her breasts? For no reason except that Rob wanted to look at them? 

“C-cmon,” she said. “Just look at the TV if you want to see boobs.” Wait, was the TV even on anymore? She glanced to her left, and in fact it was. A woman in fragments of a maid’s outfit was bent over what looked like a type of horse-drawn carriage. No horses around, thankfully. The camera angles made good use of her pendulous breasts as someone pounded her from behind. That should be more than enough for Rob to finish the job.

But Rob’s eyes never left her.

“I don’t want to see them because their boobs,” he said. “I want to see them because they’re  _ yours _ . I’ve never seen your breasts before, Sam, and until now I’ve never had any reason to want to. But … god, seeing you touch them under your sweater … please, let me look at them when I cum.”

God, he was so cute. 

“All right,” she said. “If you really need to see them. But just for a minute. So you better cum right away, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “I promise.”

Rob was pretty much at the edge, and had been for a while. He was glad Sam didn’t hesitate; her ordering him to cum was enough to set things in motion. Sam dutifully pulled her sweater up to her shoulders, letting one breast and then the other bounce gloriously as they fell free of the fabric. Soft, ripe flesh, large dark areola, protruding nipples. God, he wanted to suckle them, one after the other.

Sam was quite generous offering him an entire minute of flashing her breasts, as that was about 57 seconds more than he needed. His ejaculation surprises him in its sudden onset and lingering intensity. He's on the downstroke when the first spurt comes out, leaving a line of cum slashing across his stomach, and belatedly fists the head and pumps the rest out, spilling gobs of cum down his shaft and dripping onto his pubic hair, thighs, and balls. 

He's too shocked to be embarrassed, and when the spasms pass, he withdraws his hand, sticky tendrils clinging to his shaft, and regards the pool of cum in his palm and is almost impressed with himself. 

Sam is shocked by the display. Rob had managed to pace himself all this time, but the sight of her breasts made him cum instantly. Did he really find her body that attractive? Or was it not so much that she looked good, but that it was  _ her _ body and not someone else’s? Either way, she felt sexy, powerful, and even more incredibly aroused than before.

And atop that, God, he wasn’t hiding  _ anything _ , was he? She’d never really seen a guy jerk off before, but she was pretty sure they normally make  _ some _ attempt to limit the damage when they explode. Seeing Rob just  _ unload _ on himself like that - streaks of sticky white fluid on his stomach, gobs of it slipping through his fingers and down his shaft, and the sloppy, sticky sound as the first spurts of cum lubricated his shaft. 

And when he was done, the way he raised his hand, looking at his palm, as if genuinely mystified by what had just come out of his body. 

She was at the plateau now, the last few moments before the crash. Her fingers slipped out of herself, finding the hard nub and rapidly working it back and forth. 

“R-rob,” she gasped. “S-show me.”

“Sam?”

“You hand,” she gasped. “Show me … what’s in your hand.”

He seemed to hesitate a moment, but obliged her, extending his arm and turning his wrist so she could see. A quarter-inch deep pool of translucent white liquid filled his cupped palm. And as she drank in the sight of the milky white liquid, the scent filled her nostrils, a powerful musk. 

The spring that had been winding up in her belly all this time snaps with unprecedented violence, and as she rubs her clit furiously, she feels liquid spilling between her fingers. She is too far gone to stop, and can do nothing but maintain stimulation on her clit as her hips shudder and warm wetness begins to coat her thighs.

Even now, seconds after ejaculation, the sight before Rob was enough for him to seriously consider stroking his painfully-sensitive shaft and working himself to a second orgasm. Sam was cumming, and so far as his limited experience led him to believe, cumming  _ hard _ . The slippery, squishy sound became much louder, and he could see her thighs and hand take on a wet sheen. More than that, an intoxicating sent filled the room, musky yet sweet, so strong he could taste it on his tongue. Sam’s girl-cum, he realized. She was cumming so hard she was squirting right in front of him. Holy fuck.

Her orgasm lasts longer than his, a good ten or fifteen seconds, and all too soon Sam’s movements slow and then stop. She cups her hand over her vulva and leans back, lying supine on the floor.

There is no sound for a while, only heavy breathing, and after about a minute Rob braces himself on the couch and raises himself to his feet, doing his best to limit the drops of semen dripping to the carpet.

“I’m gonna get some wet towels,” he says, and makes his way to the bathroom.

Sam’s vision begins to clear, the stars floating around the periphery slowly extinguishing one by one. The feeling of relief and contentment continues to wash over her, but in shorter and shorter waves. Embarrassment begins to creep in. She should not have done that, and worse still,  _ it should not have felt that good _ . Had she ever felt so overwhelmed by an orgasm before? And if not, why? She didn’t do anything unusual to herself. What was so different?

“Here” says Rob, standing beside her, and she takes the wet washcloth from him, wiping off her hands and then her thighs.

“Sorry,” she said meekly. “I made a mess.”

There’s a soft clatter beside her, and as she sits up, she sees Rob had brought out the cleaning bucket from under the bathroom sink. He took out a sponge and a bottle of carpet-cleaner spray and squatted beside her. He was still naked - aside from his socks - but he’d apparently washed up a bit. She could see droplets of water clinging to his pubic hair.

“I’m on it. You go clean up in the bathroom. I’ll finish up here.”

She sat up, and was rewarded with the sensation of wet, squishy carpet under her ass. Fuck, she had absolutely  _ soaked _ the thing.

“Ah, god, I really - ah, I know it looks like - but it’s not - it’s not pee, I swear.”

“I know,” he says. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t - I didn’t meet to do that. And even when I do, it’s never … it’s never that much…”

“Sam,” he said, his eyes sincere, not a hint of teasing in his expression. “Sam, don’t talk like that. What you just did was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t you  _ dare  _ apologize for it.”

“You really … you really don’t mind that stuff?”

“ _ Mind _ ? Are you  _ kidding _ ? The only thing that would make me happier than I am right now is to see you squirt like that again.”

She blushed.

“Maybe … maybe I will … if you jerk off again like that … and, uh … if we put down some towels first.”

Rob chuckled and extended a hand, helping Sam to her feet. She made a move to pull her sweater back down to her waist, but stopped, realizing she’d only get it dirty, and took it off instead.

“I”m - I’m gonna take a shower,” she said.

“Sure thing.”

She stood in the hallway just near the bathroom, lifting one foot to pull off her sock, and caught Rob’s gaze as her head was turned slightly over her shoulder.

“Rob?” she asked. “What is it?’”

He had already started rubbing the carpet with a damp washcloth, but his attention was clearly on her, not his work.

“Nothing,” he said, “I just … I just thought, the way you were standing there right now … I thought you looked really really pretty. That’s all.”

She smiled softly, and tossed a balled-up sock, hitting him square in the head. They exchanged a quick laugh as she disappeared around the corner.

Half an hour later, the twins were in the living room again, but on the couch this time. Freshly showered, newly sweat-panted, sharing a blanket as Sam rested her head on Rob’s shoulder, the TV tuned to more family-friendly fare, they talked, and then sat quietly, and fell asleep in each others' arms.

END


End file.
